


a group of snakes is called a pit

by Yevynaea



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crack, Dimension Travel, Gen, Humor, Multiple Selves, Short One Shot, i dont know how to tag this actually, slight supernatual crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-16 12:34:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21508021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yevynaea/pseuds/Yevynaea
Summary: Warlock and Adam find out that the multiverse exists, and that a lot of versions of Crowley haven't confessed their love for Aziraphale yet. Warlock and Adam decide to do something about that.(Absolute crack, please don't expect anything but a simple laugh out of this lmao.)
Relationships: Crowley & Adam Young (Good Omens), Crowley & Warlock Dowling, Crowley/Aziraphale but mainly implied
Comments: 6
Kudos: 79





	a group of snakes is called a pit

Crowley didn’t like this one bit.

In fact,  _ none  _ of the Crowleys present were especially pleased with their situation. There was one Crowley who looked rather like an actor by the name of David Tennant, and one who looked rather like an actor by the name of Riz Ahmed. There was one who was strongly reminiscent of the actress Zoë Kravitz, and another who might have resembled her, had he not put in the proper paperwork for a slightly different form roughly 6000 years ago. There was one who looked rather like an actor by the name of Oscar Isaac, and one who looked rather like an actor by the name of Manny Jacinto. Then there were quite a few more who resembled no actors or actresses on  _ any  _ version of Earth, though they all had dark hair and good cheekbones in common with the ones who did.

And every Crowley, save exactly one exception 1 , was very displeased at being pulled rudely out of spacetime while on their way to lunch with their respective versions of the angel Aziraphale.

( 1 The one exception wasn’t the right sort of Crowley at all; he'd been summoned quite accidentally due to the unfortunate similarity of his name, and so he barely counted to begin with. He was a different kind of Crowley entirely, one who was shorter and meaner than the rest, and was not the Serpent, and he did not have an Aziraphale. He did, however, have a Squirrel and a Moose and a Cassie, though he may or may not have hated them all. He was promptly sent back to his own universe, as he was irrelevant to the conversation at hand.)

“What the Heaven is this?” one Crowley asked.

“Where are we?” another demanded 2 .

( 2 This was both a good and a foolish question, because the reality was new to them, but specifically, the "where" was near the back of Aziraphale's always-familiar bookshop.)

“Who did thisss?” inquired a third, quite irritated, serpent’s tongue flicking out between his teeth.

“I did,” said Adam Young, the Antichrist (the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan and Lord of Darkness). Or, at least, this world’s version of him, with Dog at his side, as was a common sight in most dimensions. This Adam Young was in his very early twenties 3 , had just finished a very complicated, multiverse-bending summoning ritual, and was extremely proud of himself.

( 3 This Adam Young was, to be precise, at exactly the age that quite an alarming number of young white men begin to suspect, incorrectly, that they know everything, and that they will always be right, no matter how little they  _ actually  _ know about anything. Luckily for everyone involved, this Adam Young was not white.)

Then he was nudged by the second young man standing next to him, and he corrected: “ _ We  _ did.”

“Thank you,” said Warlock Dowling, who was not the Antichrist but Could Have Been, and to whom some ethereal and occult powers had Stuck, over the years.

“ _ Adam? _ ” asked an incredulous Crowley, one who looked quite a bit like Lucy Liu.

“ _ Warlock?” _ asked another, equally incredulous Crowley, who looked much less like Lucy Liu, considering his skin was significantly darker.

“Does your Aziraphale know what you’re doing?” asked a third Crowley, raising one eyebrow in an expression best described as the face a parent tends to make when they don’t want to discipline their children, but they know their coparent(s) will do it for them.

“No,” said Adam. “We’re adults.”

This, the assembled Crowleys had to admit, was a fair point.

“What are we doing here?” one asked.

“We’ve summoned you all here,” Warlock replied, “because almost all of you have failed to tell your Aziraphales how you feel about them, and it’s high time you all get on with it.”

“Oh no,” muttered one Crowley. Another simply turned into a snake, as they’d found this a good way to escape unwanted conversations in the past.

“It’ll be another six-thousand years of pining for all of you if you never say anything,” Adam said, with the exact volume, tone, and solemnity of a street-corner preacher telling irritated passersby to repent.

“Who do you belong to?” one Crowley stretched up onto his tiptoes, peering around the room with narrowed eyes, hoping to find which version of himself these Antichrists called godparent. He found one who was determinedly avoiding eye contact by way of staring hard at the floor and blushing, and he glared at her. “Oi! You! Control your children!”

Warlock groaned in frustration. Adam sighed.

“Maybe they’re just not ready,” he said to Dog, who gave a high-pitched whine of sympathetic reply. With a snap of his fingers, Adam reversed the summoning, sending every Crowley back to their own worlds, leaving himself, Warlock, and Dog alone with only their own godmother. She looked up from the floor, then, and took a deep breath. Then she whipped her sunglasses off with more flair than was strictly necessary, and stepped forward threateningly, but didn’t get a chance to say anything to the boys.

“Crowley? Are you here?” Aziraphale asked with excellent timing, opening the front door of her shop.

“We will be having  _ words  _ about thisss, later,” Crowley promised her sons, who both looked entirely unrepentant. Crowley then shoved her glasses back on her face before going to meet Aziraphale in the front of the shop. Warlock groaned again, collapsing dramatically into a chair. Adam looked down at Dog.

“Hopeless,” 4 he said. “They’re all hopeless.”

( 4 Unfortunately for Adam and Warlock, although angels and demons are genderless and, not in the most solid sense,  _ people _ , they are still people-shaped beings. Aziraphale and Crowley, at most times, in 99.9999999491% of all known realities, were people-shaped beings who tended to look like the same human gender, relative to each other. This, by many definitions, made them gay. And being gay, by definition, made them more than a bit hopeless.)

Dog whined again, still in agreement.


End file.
